


Righteous

by astralpenguin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: s07e23 Survival of the Fittest, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Implied Relationship, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Pre-Relationship, Some Humor, Temporary Major Character Injury, honestly you could read dean/cas as platonic in this but why would you want to do that?, it's a fix-it in the sense that canon should've done it this way, the secret good spn that lives inside my head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:16:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29678304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralpenguin/pseuds/astralpenguin
Summary: “It says righteousmortal.Do you even count as mortal at this point?”Dean blinked at Sam.“Shut up."The ingredients for the weapon to kill a Leviathan calls for the bone of a righteous mortal. The Righteous Man is right there.
Relationships: Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 13
Kudos: 39





	Righteous

**Author's Note:**

> working title of this fic: Dean Sacrifices An Arm To The Cause
> 
> i'm so mad the show didn't do this in canon. like, it was a whole plot point that dean is THE Righteous Man! the apocalypse got started over it!! and yet when they need a bone belonging to somebody righteous a few seasons later, this doesn't get mentioned??? not even as a bad idea they deliberately choose not to do????? cas would absolutely have been able to heal dean so there's zero excuse for this getting forgotten. in the secret good spn that exists inside my head dean sacrifices an arm to the cause and i cannot believe i have to do everything myself around here
> 
> see end notes for more detailed/an explanation of the warnings

They had the blood of a fallen angel. They hadn’t needed to ask for it. They’d read out the ingredients and before it had even occurred to Sam that, maybe, their friend’s blood would count, Castiel had already been holding out a bottle of his own blood and declaring that he was happy to do so, and was always happy to do so.

The blood of an Alpha had been harder to come by, but they’d managed. Sam wasn’t looking forward to the next time they would come across the Alpha Vampire, but that wasn’t a pressing concern. For now they had a temporary truce and a vial of his blood, ready and waiting to be used against the Leviathans.

The blood of the King of Hell would come last. They effectively had it already. Crowley had promised it to them and, as far as Sam knew, he didn’t have any incentive to double cross them over this. Crowley wanted the Leviathans gone just as much as they did. He just wasn’t prepared to give his own blood up until everything else was in place. It was annoying, and Sam knew that he’d feel a lot better if they had the blood already, but he couldn’t fault Crowley’s reasoning. They might trust each other enough to want the Leviathans gone, but they didn’t trust each other enough for Crowley to feel secure leaving a vial of his blood unattended with them. Sam couldn’t blame him for that.

Besides, there was something to be said for them _not_ having demon blood easily accessible near him. He still got cravings sometimes. Never enough to act on, but still. They were there. The risk would be minimal, but this way there wasn’t any risk at all.

So. Angel blood: check. Monster blood: check. Demon blood: basically check.

Which just left the actual weapon itself.

The bone of a ‘righteous mortal’.

Whatever the hell _that_ was supposed to mean.

Sam read over Kevin’s notes again. And again and again.

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew that rereading the same sentence over wasn’t going to make it make any more sense. But this was all they had to work on, so he needed to figure it out somehow.

A righteous mortal.

He hadn’t heard the word ‘righteous’ get used in a long time.

No, that wasn’t true. Lucifer had loved to throw that word around. Both Lucifer in the Cage and the hallucination of Lucifer that had come after. He’d loved to remind Sam of all the ways in which he didn’t measure up to other people, and how everybody else was better than him in every way. Sam had heard that word get used a _lot_ as part of that.

Lucifer didn’t count. Lucifer didn’t count for anything.

And Sam wasn’t going to think about what that word had meant before, either. It had to mean something else.

“We calling Cas, then?” 

Dean let the cabin door swing shut behind him as he walked in, a six pack of beer in his hand.

Sam looked up from the paper. He’d been so focused on it that he hadn’t heard the car as Dean got back. Whoops. “Why? I mean, sure, but why?”

Dean put the beer onto the table. “I’m gonna need healing, aren’t I?”

“What?”

Dean gestured to the paper that Sam had spent the last few hours staring intently at. “We need the bone of a ‘righteous mortal’.”

“Yes,” said Sam, slowly. “We do need that.”

“So,” said Dean, “I’m gonna need healing, so we call Cas.”

A small part of Sam knew what Dean was getting at, had come to the same conclusion, but a much larger part of Sam was refusing to consider it, and that part of him won out. “I don’t follow.”

Dean dropped into the chair opposite Sam. “Sure you do,” he said. “Our best bet with this thing is to use one of my bones. And yeah, Cas is a little out of it right now, but he’s also fully powered up with his angel mojo, so we do what we need to do and he can fix me up after, no problem.”

“No problem,” Sam echoed under his breath. “Dean,” he said, louder so Dean could hear him, “what the hell? What kind of conclusion is that?”

Dean shrugged and leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet up onto the table. “It’s simple, Sammy. Me being The Righteous Man was enough to jumpstart the apocalypse. This weapon needs the bone of a ‘righteous mortal’. Obviously that means we need one of mine.”

“No, Dean, _not_ obviously!”

“Hey, man, I thought we were on the same page about this. The Leviathans have gotta go, and according to the literal Word of God this blood-bone-weapon thing is the only way to be sure.”

“And your first instinct is to, what, chop off your arm?” Sam shook his head in disbelief. “No, Dean. We’re not doing that.”

“Yes we are.” His voice was stern, and he fixed Sam with an expression close to a glare.

A long time ago, Dean had said nearly that exact same thing in that exact tone of voice with that exact expression.

Losing an arm, even temporarily, was nowhere near as bad as being dragged to hell.

Sam still didn’t like it.

Dean’s expression softened. “I’m not saying I’m happy about it,” he said. “But we need this to work, and we’re only gonna get one shot on Dick. I was Righteous Man enough for the literal goddamn apocalypse. It’s our best shot and you know it.”

Sam looked down at the instructions once more, then looked back up at his brother. “It says righteous _mortal._ Do you even count as mortal at this point?”

Dean blinked at Sam.

“Shut up,” he said. He swung his feet off the table and stood in one fluid motion, picking up a bottle of beer and starting towards the door. “I’m gonna call Cas.”

“Sure, okay,” said Sam. “Don’t chop off any limbs without me.”

Dean flipped him off. Sam took that as an agreement.

Not even ten minutes later, Dean was back in the main cabin with Castiel in tow.

And Meg.

She seemed to be about as happy to be there as Sam was to see her. That being, not at all. But Cas had apparently specifically sought her out to bring her along when Dean called him, and Sam didn’t want to be the asshole who wouldn’t let Cas have his friend here, even if that friend was Meg. And even Dean knew better than to give Cas more reasons to be upset with him, given what he was planning on asking of him. And Meg knew better than to try running from an angel. If Castiel wanted her to be somewhere, then that’s where she would be whether she liked it or not.

She seemed to like it a lot more once Dean had explained the plan.

“Let me make sure I’m understanding this right,” she said, her mouth curving into a smile. “You’re gonna cut your arm off so it can be used to stab dear old Dick, and you’re hoping that sweet Castiel here will grow you a new one, just like that?”

Dean’s expression was somewhere between a smile and a snarl. “That about sums it up.”

Castiel looked stricken.

Sam was sure that, while this possibility _had_ crossed his mind enough for him to have decided against it by the time Dean brought it up, it might not have even occurred to Cas that something like this was on the table.

It wasn’t a surprise that Dean was prepared to lose an arm for this. Millions of lives were at stake, and Dean had sacrificed a lot more for a lot less before. Even if they didn’t have Cas, and the loss of limb was permanent, Sam knew that Dean would be insisting they do this anyway.

But Cas blamed himself for the Leviathans being free. Which meant that, in his mind, everything that needed to be done to lock them back up was also his fault. Which meant that this discussion, and the very real possibility that they’d be chopping off Dean’s arm before the day’s end, was also his fault.

Sam was all too familiar with that way of thinking. Blaming himself for everything that happened during the apocalypse was a big part of why throwing himself into the Cage had been so easy.

Even if what was happening now could be traced back to what Castiel did, Sam didn’t hold any of it against him. For starters, it didn’t seem fair when the Leviathans breaking free in the first place had literally killed the guy. Surely that alone had been punishment enough. And yeah, Cas had taken a sledgehammer to the wall in Sam’s head, but Sam had seen Cas’ genuine heartache and regret in the moments before Cas took the worst of his trauma’s physical effects onto himself. As grand gestures of apologies went, Sam had never had a bigger one done for him.

There wasn’t a single doubt in Sam’s mind that if Castiel could turn back time and never open that door to Purgatory, he would. Just like if _he_ could turn back time and never let Ruby manipulate him into killing Lilith in that specific time and place, he would too.

Seeing an angel follow in his footsteps was a strange experience, but the realisation that he didn’t think any less of Castiel for it went a long way towards helping him think that maybe he could start to forgive himself.

After all, if he considered Cas’ death in the lake to be punishment enough for releasing the Leviathans, then why couldn’t he consider everything he’d experienced in and as a result of the Cage as punishment enough for what _he’d_ done?

At some point, preferably soon, he needed to pull Cas aside and talk to him about this. _Really_ talk.

But for now Cas was upset at the prospect of Dean losing an arm. Sam also didn’t want Dean to lose an arm. He could work with this.

“I think it’s a terrible idea.”

“You’re a terrible idea.”

“No, Dean, this is serious.”

“I wouldn’t have called Cas here over this if I wasn’t being serious.”

“And look at him,” said Sam, gesturing towards Cas. “He likes the idea of cutting your arm off even less than I do!”

“If it helps any,” said Meg, putting an arm around Cas’ shoulders and pulling him into a half-hug, “I’m up for some limb detachment. Why not?”

“Well that’s great,” said Sam, rounding on Dean. “The only one who agrees with you on this is the demon. Shouldn’t you take that as a sign that _maybe_ it’s a bad idea?”

“Everything about this situation is bad, Sammy.” Dean said, his voice suddenly sounding very tired. “I’m not saying it’s ideal. I’m saying it’s our best shot, and we’d be idiots not to take it.”

“What if it isn’t our best shot, though?” said Sam, aware that he was grasping at straws. “Sure, you’re the Righteous Man, but so what? The weapon calls for the bone of _a_ righteous _mortal._ Not necessarily _the_ Righteous _Man._ They might be referring to completely different things, and if the mortality is important then-”

“The distinction between _mortal_ and _man_ is negligible in this context,” said Meg, cutting Sam off. “They just mean human. So unless one of your hunts has gone very sideways recently, Dean should still count for it.”

“Shut up, Meg,” said Sam.

Meg ignored him, looking directly at Dean. “I’ve had spells go right for me before that had much less certain wording than what you’ve got here. It’ll work.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Cas, she telling the truth?” asked Dean.

Cas tore his gaze away from Dean and looked out of the window. “She is.”

Sam sighed. “C’mon Cas, that was the perfect opportunity to get him to drop this shit.”

Meg laughed, dropping her arm from around Cas’ shoulders. “And throw his bestie under the bus? Cas is too good to do that.”

“I dislike lying,” said Cas, still staring out of the window. “Even if lying would be beneficial in this instance, it’s caused too much trouble in the past for me to feel comfortable being dishonest with any of you. Dean’s plan would work. It’s not the only plan that would work, but it _would_ work.”

“You hear that?” said Sam. “It’s not the only plan that would work. Let’s think of something else.”

“Like what?” said Dead. “We go dig up a nun and hope we picked somebody righteous enough?”

Sam hadn’t thought it was possible, but somehow Meg perked up even more at that. “I’m down with digging up a nun.”

“If we fuck this up,” Dean continued, not acknowledging that Meg had spoken, “then we won’t know until it’s too late. And then we die. And then so does everybody else. We can’t afford that. Using my bone is the best call here, and we all know it. So let’s just get on with it.” He turned to Castiel. “I’d prefer not to be permanently down an arm, but I’m doing this whether you heal me or not. Can I count on you to heal me?”

Cas closed his eyes. “Of course.”

With that, Sam knew that he’d lost. Short of tying his brother down, there wasn’t anything he could do to stop him from enacting his plan. All he could do now was make sure that nothing went wrong along the way.

“Fine,” he said. “We’ll do it your way. But you’re not allowed to use that time you had your arm temporarily cut off as a gotcha later on, okay?”

Dean smiled in a deliberately innocent way. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’d _never_ do something like that.”

“So how are you doing this?” asked Meg. “Chopping your own arm off might be a bit much for you. I’m happy to help out if you need.”

The smile dropped from Dean’s face. “Yeah, no,” he said. “I might be losing an arm today, but I’d be an idiot to let _you_ do it.”

Meg shrugged. “You do realise that Castiel is awfully fond of you, don’t you?”

Dean stared her down.

Sam watched them look at each other.

“I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you more than having your arm chopped off already will,” she continued. “I don’t want to give your angel a reason to smite me.”

If Sam wasn’t so used to Dean hiding his true feelings behind cheery quips and bravado, then he might have taken her at her word. But he _was_ used to Dean, and he recognised the technique she was using. It was easier for her to say that she didn’t want to piss off an angel for fear of the consequences for herself than it was for her to admit that she didn’t want to do anything to upset him just because she didn’t want him to be upset.

If the expression on Dean’s face was anything to go by, he’d caught the true meaning behind her words as well.

“And you wouldn’t enjoy cutting off Dean’s arm?” said Sam, once it became clear that nobody else was going to talk. “You’d take _no_ pleasure in it? At all?”

Meg grinned. “I’d take a little bit of pleasure in it.”

Sam nodded, and reached for the nearest machete. “I’ll do it.” He walked to the door and pulled it open. “You stay here. Dean, Cas, with me.”

As he walked outside he heard Meg scoff - “I don’t even get to watch?” - but when he looked around to check he saw that she had indeed done as she was told and stayed behind. Only Dean and Cas had followed him out.

Round the back of the cabin was a small clearing, and near the edge of the clearing was a tree stump that looked to be about knee height. Dean overtook Sam and headed towards it. Cas went to do the same, but went still as Sam grabbed his arm to stop him.

“I’m sorry about this.”

Cas tilted his head in question. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

Sam made an abortive gesture with the machete. _“This,”_ he said. “The whole cutting off Dean’s arm thing. It sucks, and it really sucks that you’re having to be an active part of it.”

For a moment Castiel looked impossibly sad.

“I’m already an active part of it,” he said. “You’re building a weapon with which you can defeat the Leviathans. It’s my fault that the Leviathans are free. The least I can do is minimise the permanent injury my actions have caused.”

Throwing himself into the Cage had been easy, in the end. It hadn’t really felt like he was _throwing_ himself anywhere. Throwing was too big of a word for it. The opening had formed in the ground of Stull Cemetery, and Sam had stepped into it. If he hadn’t had to pull Michael, pull _Adam,_ into the Cage with him, then the transition might have even been peaceful. There’d never been a shred of doubt in his mind about what he needed to do. Stopping the apocalypse in its tracks. Stopping anyone else from getting hurt because of his mistake. Dooming himself to an eternity with only Lucifer for company had been the least he could do to atone.

Yeah. He and Cas needed to talk about this. There wasn’t time to have this conversation now, and Sam didn’t think that Cas was stable enough yet to have it anyway, but. Someday. Someday they’d talk about it, secure in the knowledge that there wasn’t anyone else out there who could understand what they were going through better than each other.

“What’s the holdup?” Dean called out.

He’d already reached the tree stump and knelt next to it.

Sam jogged to catch up, Cas following him close behind.

Dean went to roll his left sleeve up, then apparently thought better of it and stripped down to his t-shirt. He laid his left forearm on the stump.

Sam gripped the machete in his own left hand and got into position. Cas knelt on the grass on Dean’s other side.

“You’re sure you can do this, Cas?” asked Dean.

Castiel nodded.

“Talk me through what you’re gonna do,” said Sam.

“Sam-” started Dean.

“Don’t get me wrong, I trust you,” said Sam, talking over Dean and looking at Cas. “I just want to make sure that we’re all on the same page here. We don’t need any surprises.”

The ghost of a smile flickered across Cas’ face. “A surprise right now wouldn’t be helpful, I agree. Once you’ve removed Dean’s forearm, I’ll stop the bleeding straight away, and then I’ll get to work on recreating it.” He sent an apologetic look towards Dean. “It’ll likely take some time.”

“Hey, no sweat,” said Dean. “Take as much time as you need.”

“If you were anyone else it would take me even longer, but I have the advantage of prior experience. I’ve remade you in your entirety before.”

“Oh yeah?”

The expression on Cas’ face melted back into a small smile. “Yes, Dean. I’m very familiar with the formation of your body.”

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out.

Sam laughed.

“I’m gonna cut just below your elbow, okay?”

Dean looked up at Sam and nodded.

Sam nodded back.

“Both of you get everything else out of the way.”

Dean and Cas both leant back, leaving more than enough room for Sam to swing.

“Thanks,” he said. “For the record, I still hate this idea.”

And he swung.

Years of decapitating vampires and the like meant that Sam knew what he was doing. There was no chance of the machete getting stuck in flesh or bone and the job being left unfinished. Almost the same moment that Sam began the movement, there was a satisfying _thud_ as the blade was embedded in the tree stump below it.

Dean let out a groan.

There was a flash of blue as Cas sealed the wound.

Sam reached down with his right hand, gripped Dean’s wrist, and picked up his now severed forearm.

There was still blood dripping from it. There wasn’t any point in Cas wasting time or energy stopping it from bleeding when the part of Dean’s arm that was still attached to him was a higher priority. Sam knew that. It was still unsettling.

He let go of the machete handle, leaving it stuck in the trunk.

Cas had tugged Dean towards him and cupped his hands around his wound. He was saying something, quiet enough that Sam couldn’t hear it, and Dean was nodding along with his eyes shut tight.

Sam decided to leave them to it.

Somebody needed to get the bone out of the arm. It would be easier on everyone if Sam just got on with it.

Leaving the two of them there, Sam took the arm round the side of the cabin. There was an outdoor faucet there where he could wash away as much of the blood as possible before he stripped the flesh away.

He’d need to get a blade to be able to do that. He’d only brought the one machete out with him, and that was currently stuck in the tree stump next to Dean and Cas. He didn’t really want to go back over there while the regrowing of Dean’s arm was still in progress, and he didn’t want to take Dean’s severed arm inside where it could leave a mess, and he certainly didn’t want to leave the arm unattended.

“Here.”

He turned to see Meg, holding out the handle of a large knife.

“You were told to stay inside.”

She shrugged. “You gonna take the thing or what?”

Sam took the knife.

“I could get the bone out a lot faster than you, you know.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I don’t doubt it.”

He worked in silence. Meg leant against the wall next to him and watched, not offering to take over again.

He let himself think about what he was doing one time. When he did, he felt a wave of nausea rise in his stomach, and he had to stop and take a few deep breaths until the feeling went away. He brought his gaze up to meet Meg’s. She looked calmly back at him, without any sympathy but without any judgement either. He squared his shoulders and got back to work, keeping his mind carefully blank this time.

Eventually, he was done. The bone they needed was in hand, clean of all blood and fleshy debris. A nearby bucket had become the dumping ground for blood, strips of flesh and muscle, and all of the wrist and hand. Sam rinsed his hands a final time under the water stream before turning it off.

“I could dispose of that for you,” said Meg, gesturing towards the bucket.

“You could,” said Sam. “If you touch it, we’ll kill you.”

Meg pushed herself off the wall. “What do you think I’m gonna do with that crap? It’s trash.”

“It’s the principle of the thing.”

“So you’re saying that you _don’t_ think I’m gonna do anything untoward with bits of your brother’s arm?”

“Yeah,” said Sam. He wasn’t in the mood to pretend. “I don’t think you have an evil plan for what to do with Dean’s blood or whatever else is in here, and I don’t think giving it to you would cause us any trouble down the road. You’re not gonna do anything that would hurt Cas, and fucking with Dean would hurt Cas. But you’re still a demon, and it’s safer not to take that risk. We’re gonna burn the shit in here. It’s safer for everyone that way.”

“Fair enough,” said Meg.

Sam picked up the bucket.

He retraced his steps, going back towards the rear of the cabin, readying himself to call out to Dean and Cas to come back inside with him.

Then he looked up and stopped.

Dean and Cas were still sat where Sam had left them. If anything they were sat even closer together than they had been before. Their foreheads were either pressed against each other, or their faces were so close that this might as well have been the case. Their bodies were blocked from Sam’s view by the tree stump and machete, but Sam was sure that Cas still had Dean’s arm cradled in his hands. If Sam was interpreting the angle of Dean’s shoulders right, he was holding onto Cas, too. It looked like Dean’s lips were moving, but from this distance Sam couldn’t be sure.

He felt a small tug on his sleeve.

“Let’s leave these two lovebirds to it,” said Meg.

There was a note of hurt in her voice. Sam could tell that she’d tried to hide it, but again, he was used to someone trying to keep their real emotions from reaching the surface. He was used to having to read the truth that was buried deeper than most would be able to see.

He turned to face her. “Are you....” he trailed off, unsure of what exactly he was doing, checking in on a demon like this. “Okay?” he finished.

She smiled. It wasn’t a happy smile. She didn’t seem to be in the mood to pretend either. “Yeah,” she said. “If he’s good, then I’m good.”

She didn’t wait for a response, instead turning and making her way towards the front of the cabin.

And Sam followed, leaving Dean and Castiel alone together behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> the implied/referenced suicide mentioned in the tags is referring to sam thinking about his decision to lock himself in the cage with lucifer. there's also some reference to previous suicidal ideation about the same. i'm erring on the side of caution by tagging it as suicide, but i don't want anyone to get hurt bc they weren't expecting it. sam thinking so much was a complete accident but my sam (and cas) stan brain jumped out and took over what was supposed to be a simple canon fix-it
> 
> comments and kudos mean the absolute world to me !!!
> 
> find me on [tumblr!](https://astralpenguin.tumblr.com/)


End file.
